


Pour One Out

by t0talcha0s



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, POV Dirk, Second person POV, coffee shop AU, human!hal, light and gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:15:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0talcha0s/pseuds/t0talcha0s
Summary: You never wanted to work at Starbucks, but it lead to you meeting Hal- the jackass.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to write this in 2015 and I finally came through. Also Dirk is black in this.

The first time he comes in you already know you hate him, he looks impeccably like you, sharing the same white-blond hair, you think he may be taller and your eye twitches for it. However he's obviously got a reason for the hair, you dye your hair after all, he appears to have albinism given his skin's as light as it is, there's a definite difference there. The minute he steps in you see him look at you behind the counter and that shit eating smirk grates on your nerves something awful. He lets an old woman cut in line in front of him and you know it's so he'll get to order from you. 

"How can I help you?" You say passively, not giving him the satisfaction of aggression. 

"Well Dirk," you hate it when customers get ballsy with your name tag. "I'd like a caramel brûlée mocha peppermint latte with 3 shots of espresso." You blink at him, then raise your eyebrows confrontationally. 

"That doesn't exist." His smirk tmakes it evident that he knows that. 

"It's listed on your board." 

"As three different drinks." 

"You can't combine them, get creative." You're not going to do that to Latula, the cool, or rad as she would say, drink-maker. Instead on the cup you just write 'caramel brûlée + espresso'. You smile wide enough he'll know you didn't do what he wanted. You scrawl your signature on the cup so he won't be able to read it. 

"Name?"

"Hal." You purposely misspell his name 'hell' on his cup, he tips you extra for it. 

-

The second time he walks in like he knows you'll be there, and Roxy comments on the glare you give him, even through your shades. 

"You know this guy Distri?" You shake your head. You'd usually tell her she shouldn't be behind the counter because she doesn't work here, but you're too busy boring holes into this jackwad's head. 

"Can I help you?" You ask, deadpan and cold when he reaches the counter, leaning his elbows on it and bending to smirk at you annoyingly. You don't give him the satisfaction of smiling a shit-eating grin back at him. 

"I'd like a peppermint McDouble." 

"Seems you're delusional as to where you are." 

"Mocha with a shot of special sauce."

"Do I look like a Mcdonalds employee?" 

"You glare like one, I thought Starbucks was supposed to be hospitable." 

"Can I help you?" You say, harsh and deadpan. 

"I'll take a coconut, croissant cappuccino." 

"Eat shit." 

"Just a caramel frappe then." You sign his cup, writing his order and he looks far too smug. 

"Name?" 

"I'm insulted you don't remember, I'm Hal." You write 'Cal' on his cup and resist the urge to flick him off as he saunters away. 

-

The third time you're not prepared, it's near closing time and you're aggressively mopping at a spilled smoothie behind the counter as the culprit (Latula) takes inventory. You're disgusted with the feeling of the floor and grumble to yourself until you hear someone behind you at the counter say,

"I'd like to order from the secret menu." You recognize the voice and you groan inwardly, before straightening yourself up and turning to face him. There stands Hal in all of his pale, smarmy glory. 

"The secret menu?"

"I believe the password is count chocula today." 

"I'm sorry sir, you seem to be completely delusional once again." He raises an eyebrow. 

"That's not the password today, damn I thought I was right." 

"There is no secret menu, can't you just order something without heckling me?" 

"You don't have a secret menu?" He feigns surprise. 

"No." 

"Then explain this." He slaps a piece of paper on the table, on it, scrawled in pencil, are bubble letters brightly proclaiming 'Starbucks Secret Menu' with a cartoon coffee cup saying 'shhhhh' next to them. You're astonished at the effort and irony of it, you're almost impressed. The fake menu has such items as 'human organs', 'Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron', and 'pool noodles'. At least he has good taste in movies. You gawp at the paper, unknowing of what to say, his grin is shit-eating. In the bottom right corner is what you presume is his cellphone number and a note that says 'by the way, it's Hal.' accompanied by a winky face. 

You tell him it's closing time and that you can't serve him or take his order, and he leaves his shitty secret menu and walks out, mouthing 'call me' at you before he closes the door. 

-

God knows why you called him. The secret menu had sat crumpled up in your bedside table for days, three you think, and one night you just picked up your phone and punched in the number that he had left.

You got his voicemail.

“Fuck right the hell off,” you say into the answer machine, and carelessly tack on, “Call me back.”

-

He calls you back a few hours later, and he sounds a bit sorry to have missed you. You at least take solace in that. 

"I assume your call means you're willing to let me take you out." 

"Don't read into this." 

"There is no alternative, logical conclusion."

"I could just have wanted to tell you man to man that you're persona non grata in every Starbucks now." 

"I can dream- Starbucks taste like shit." 

"You buy a lot of drinks for someone who hates Starbucks." 

"I've been thirsty." You take a beat of pause before responding. 

"That was bad." 

"I don't know what you mean." 

"Yes you do- and that was bad." 

"Can I pick you up at seven o'clock on Wednesday?" The fact that he's seriously interested in you is surprising, but it's been a long time since you've been on a date, not since Jake and you were god knows how young when that happened. Roxy would be so happy if you got a date. 

"Seven thirty." 

"Don't wear green, it's not really your color." And he hung up on you. 

You think you genuinely hate him. 

-

You wore green, specifically your Starbucks apron, when he picks you up on Wednesday. You'd genuinely tried to look good under that: your best jeans, a button up rolled up at the sleeves, and your trusty Batman belt because of course. He rolls his eyes as he drives up, you can't help but smirk. 

"You look good." 

"Wanted to make sure you'd be able to recognize me." 

"You're not scowling like you usually do, you must be an imposter come to ravish my young body." You get into the car with him, not so quick as to take off the Starbucks apron just to make him worry that you would actually wear it the whole date. You take your time in the car, while mindlessly bantering, to look over him. He's pale and lean, spiky white hair, he mirrors you in a lot of ways and if you weren't black you'd worry about filling the stereotype of white gays wanting to date themselves. You arrive at the movie theatre fairly quickly and as you get out of the car you realize he is taller then you, just a little. You hate him for it. 

"What movie do you want to see, my treat."

"What a gentleman, if my mama could see me with a man like this." 

"Don't take me home to the family just yet, I still have to get to third base and make sure it's worth it." You almost laugh at that, not bothering to bring up that he's already met all your family, Roxy's all you've got. You end up picking some bad horror movie and you sit in the back and the witty comments the two of you make are perfectly in sync. It feels like breathing and you think you're happy with the way the date is going- until you exit the theatre. 

"I think I'd like some coffee." He says, and you resist the urge to punch him. You'd tell him off but honestly you're kind of hungry and some cafe breakfast food could really do you good. He goes to- of fucking course- a Starbucks and you groan. 

"Were you made just to irritate me?" 

"You could've left this date at any time you wanted." 

"You're the one driving and I can't walk home from here." 

"My strategy prevails once again." You enter the store together, he holds the door open like a douche with an arm outstretched and his head bowed. You enter gladly and quickly, trying not to make a scene. You order a croissant and make sure they toast it for the proper amount of time. He doesn't order anything and you ask him why as you get out your wallet to pay. 

"Oh," he says, "I don't like coffee." You do punch him.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is barefootcosplayer I take requests and they usually take less then 2 years to complete.


End file.
